


the force is strong with this one

by openended



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Texts From Last Night Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-27
Updated: 2012-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/openended/pseuds/openended
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>(541): He's the only one I know who can talk to a girl for an entire hour about the science in Star Wars and still get laid.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	the force is strong with this one

It starts simple enough.

They put on _Star Wars_ in the commissary because, for once in their lives, things look to be quiet for at least the next three hours and hey - why not, they need the break. Even the least geeky of the expedition (that would be the psychiatrist and the botanists and two junior members of the astrophysics department, just enough to be statistically significant) have an appreciation, if not love, for the movie. It’s something most of them can quote forward and backward (and sometimes in Klingon, which annoys Kavanaugh because _you can’t do that to science fiction franchises_ ) so if they have to be pulled away for a minor emergency, they won’t need to be caught up when they return.

There’s an unstated rule as John puts the DVD in: **do not whine about the science.**

Everyone knows that it’s wrong, or at least mildly inaccurate, so there’s no point in highlighting it.

Rodney bites his tongue until Han says “made the Kessel run in twelve parsecs.” Then he loses it.

The entire expedition knows that parsecs are a unit of distance, not time, but he points it out anyway.

Loudly.

He continues. Stars shouldn’t become lines as you move faster than light and FTL travel isn’t possible outside of hyperspace anyway - which isn’t technically faster than light, it’s just another layer of space providing a malleable conduit between two points - and there’s no way the Millenium Falcon can have proper hyperspace engines on board, given its relative size. Laser weapons are highly impractical, and even if they were made practical, you wouldn’t be able to see them until they hit their target unless there was a lot of dust in the way which would inevitably diminish the effectiveness of the beam at its target and -

Sam drags him out of the commissary. By his ear.

She lets him continue, outside of earshot of everyone else, because she understands the desire to prove people wrong. Except she keeps her complaints to herself, unless the science is so incredibly bastardized that she feels obligated to verbally poke holes in everything in order to redeem her field from those who have clearly never heard of Einstein-Rosen bridges despite using them as an explanation for relatively instantaneous space travel.

It takes her a full lap around this level of the city to realize that he’s narrating the incorrect science as it would appear on the screen if they were still in the commissary watching the movie with everyone else. She changes direction and he misses a step, nearly tripping, but doesn’t lose his train of thought on why X-wings had so much trouble going up against TIE fighters.

Rodney stops, finally, when he realizes where they are. Outside her quarters. “Oh, so I’ll just continue this little project by myself, then. Hm. Well, there are two more movies to go and then...” he trails off before he can dive into why the prequels are terrible and midichlorians are quite possibly the worst explanation anyone’s given for anything in the history of the universe. There’s a look on her face that he can’t analyze and, for a moment, he’s nervous.

He doesn’t like not knowing things.

“Rodney.”

“Yes?”

She waves her hand over the sensor and her door opens with a _whoosh_. “Stop talking.”

He blinks at her. He’s used to people telling him to stop talking, but there’s usually an undercurrent (or overcurrent, if that’s even a thing) of frustration in their voice. Her voice is more aroused (and now he thinks that he’s dropped into the Twilight Zone and, oh God, the problems there are greater than that of _Star Wars_ by at least an order of magnitude) than frustrated and he thinks that her amused eyebrow is an invitation to step over the threshold, but he isn’t entirely sure.

Sam checks the hallway and then grabs his shirt and pulls him inside.


End file.
